


The Fall of Icarus

by Fooeyburr



Series: Helios [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Billford - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Eldritch!Bill, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, I should probably mention tentacles though just in case, I'm not even going to list that stuff, M/M, Torture, Weirdmageddon, You get the idea, all kinds of kink, at one point I was just going to name this fic Shit Bill Says, the dialogue is kinda hilarious at times, there's nothing too squicky going on, triangle!Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to The North Wind and The Sun where Bill lives up to his promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall of Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very proud of this fic and refuse to apologize for anything included in it. Enjoy.
> 
> (In case someone wants to really get in the mood while reading, the jazz tune Bill puts playing in the background is Bill Evans' album Time Remembered. You can listen to it [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JwRsXjA-788)

He gradually regained consciousness to the echoing sound of softly splashing water. His still horribly aching body was surrounded by a soothing warmth, one so comforting that it heaved a long, relaxed sigh deep from within his lungs. His fingers twitched, and he realized they were underwater, brushing against a smooth material. The splashes recurred, and small ripples tickled his jaw resting just above the water’s surface.

It was then that he noticed the hand in his hair.

Ford opened his eyes in a flash.

He flinched by instinct, and a trickle of water immediately found its way into his mouth and down his throat. The violent gagging reaction that followed caused him to slip down the polished surface and sink completely underwater. More liquid rushed into his windpipe, and the burning sensation and rising panic momentarily turned him into a helpless, flailing mess; he was finally dragged back up by that same hand in his hair, now gripping on it roughly. Between coughing and struggling against the painful grasp, he could hear a jarring laughter from above his head.

“Whoa, Sixer!” Bill’s cheerful greeting punctured the last bits of his earlier serenity like a shard of glass. “Easy with the plunging, buddy, you’re not on fire anymore!”

Ford’s eyes stung as he forced them back open while his other hand sought the edge of whatever he was situated in. It was a large and rather luxurious bathtub, he soon realized, even though his vision was blurry from the water contact as well as missing his glasses. He didn’t need his sight, however, to notice that he was completely naked under the surface. Fortunately the water, or whatever the tub was filled with, was pitch-black and a little thicker than usual, resembling watered down tar.  
  
Ford grimaced, trying to clear his throat from the last traces of irritation. Bill’s greeting words had awakened painful flashbacks of the condition he’d been in before he’d passed out for good. It certainly didn’t help his discomfort that the hand soon resumed to stroke his hair, while another one sunk underwater to wind its fingers around his chest and arms, holding him still.  
  
Ford squirmed in anger and embarrassment and turned to glare at Bill, who was now considerably larger than his regular size. “Let go of me this instant”, he gnarled. He felt like a house pet being given a bath by its owner.  
  
He could see Bill’s eye narrowing through the blur. “What, I’m finally giving you a nice little breather and all I get is more backtalk? Sheesh. Why don’t you pipe down for a moment, Stanford?” He was pressed against the tub’s brim, mouth dangerously close to the waterline. Bill hummed contently as the man was forced to stay quiet, but the look in his half-squinted eyes remained just as furious.  
  
Ford’s breaths turned into frustrated huffs through his nose when he realized that Bill was shampooing his hair with a sponge. He really was giving him a bath, Jesus Christ. “There you go”, he heard the triangle demon purr as the fingers lightly scratched him behind the ears. “Good boy, Fordsy.”  


Jesus _fucking_ Christ.  
  
He sat still like a log through the entire humiliating process. Bill took his time foaming and rinsing off the tangerine-scented shampoo, occasionally stopping to tickle him under his chin like he was a puppy of some sort. It made him feel sick to his stomach. The demon continued to gently massage his scalp even when he was done with the hair, and when Ford felt the fingers slide down the nape of his neck, he shuddered a bit under the touch as he remembered the threats - or promises? - that were whispered into his ear back in the throne room. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and prayed that wasn’t what Bill was so carefully preparing him for.  
  
He couldn’t tell whether he was shivering more with cold or fear when he was suddenly lifted out of the murky water’s warmth. Judging from how it didn’t ease off in the slightest when his body was completely wrapped in a huge, puffy towel from head to toe, fear did seem to be the initial factor.  
  
For a moment he couldn’t see anything with the towel covering his head, but from a strange airy feeling coursing through his body he could tell that they’d teleported someplace else. When the soft fabric was lowered from his face, the bad feeling in his gut twisted as he recognized the room as Bill’s penthouse suite. Bill seated himself on what seemed to be the wide end of a large triangular bed and placed Ford carefully on his lap. Ford groaned in frustration and struggled against Bill’s hands as they started diligently drying his hair and body with the towel.  
  
“Stop it! Bill, for God’s sake, I can do that myself! Quit being ridiculous!”  
  
“Shush.” A single finger was pressed tightly on his mouth, smothering his complaints. Shaking with fury this time, Ford had no other choice but to quietly resign himself to being patted and rubbed dry like an infant on Bill’s lap. He felt absolutely mortified, and just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse he felt the towel slip between his legs, causing him draw a sharp breath through his nose and freeze completely. It was gone in an instant, now swiftly going through his thighs and knees instead, but he could certainly see the smirk in Bill’s eye widening at the sight of his reaction.  
  
Fear and embarrassment took over his anger again as the darkened towel that had at least given him some cover was casually thrown away, and Bill lifted him up again to look at a job well done. Apparently pleased with what he saw, he placed the weakly squirming man to sit on the floor before him, facing him from beneath his seat. Desperately wishing he had something to cover himself with, Ford drew his legs closer to himself and felt his face heat up. He squinted at the slightly blurry image of Bill, now in his normal size again, looking down on him with one leg haughtily crossed over the other.  
  
“Oh, right…” Bill snapped his fingers, and Ford’s vision sharpened instantly, causing his eyes to sting and go damp as they re-adjusted to the surroundings. “That’s better! Won’t be needing those nerdy human gizmos anymore. Now all that’s missing is…” A strained huff escaped Ford’s throat as the familiar collar snapped around his neck. “There! Perfect.” The demon’s surface flickered with obvious delight.  
  
“I usually go with less is more when it comes to you wearing things, but that there just begs to be worn by you. And I promise it won’t be the only thing begging once we get started with _this_.” His eye was half-lidded as he lazily wound the collar’s chain around his hand. Ford felt a violent shudder run down his spine at the sight.  
  
“Enough with your games, Cipher”, he muttered in a low tone, trying to ignore how unconvincing his voice sounded even to his own ears. “There is nothing you could do to me in your personal quarters that could achieve different results than what you were so busy doing earlier.” Careful to not let it show, he suddenly felt very unsure about what he’d just said. Wasn’t he just tempting his fate by now?  
  
The demon’s expression certainly seemed to imply that. “Ha! You clueless little man, you literally have no idea, do you? We’ll change that, don’t worry. And first of all, ‘personal quarters’? Why would I need something like that when I have the whole world as my playfield to do as I please with? Oh no, kiddo, this is my _dollhouse_ , made exclusively for keeping you. Here, _you’re_ my playfield, you’re the one with whom I do as I please… if you catch my drift.” He bursted into shrill, mocking laughter.  
  
“I’m not your damn doll”, Ford growled, the blatant innuendos making him feel more and more uncomfortable with Bill’s every word. “And these ludicrous antics won’t get you anywhere, so you might as well go back to torturing me.”  
  
Bill shone with a mouthless smile and slammed his crossed legs roughly on Ford’s head, forcing him to bend down. The man hissed and cursed under his breath. He tried to back down and shake the feet off him, but the collar was pulled taut, keeping his head in place.  
  
“Oh, I’ll torture you… Rest assured, Stanford Pines, I’m gonna torture the very soul and so much more out of you. But as I’m sure you know…” Ford was jerked forward by the chain so violently that his forehead hit the bed’s end under Bill’s feet. He was locked to an awkward cowering position, held still by an invisible force around his wrists and knees. He grimaced as a hand reached to graze his curls gently.  
  
“There are other means of torture than just inflicting pain.”  
  
Something resembling a frustrated sob escaped Ford’s mouth when both of Bill’s hands sunk into his still damp hair, kneading his scalp and the back of his neck in an almost loving manner. The other hand dropped between his shoulder blades, massaging a spot between his vertebra in a way that made his stomach twist and fingers curl against the floor. His face burned as he bit down an involuntary noise threatening to spill out.  
  
“See, this isn’t half bad, is it?” Bill’s voice hummed above his head. “I’m sure you prefer this to getting your pretty hair all torched again.” The hand dove swiftly through his hair and grasped the foremost curls in a motion that was almost voracious. Ford gritted his teeth and jerked his head away when the fingers slid down and reached to trace his cheekbone.  
  
The hand retreated for a few seconds as if displeased with the motion. Then it moved to grip the collar instead, thumb pressing uncomfortably hard against Ford’s adam’s apple. Though still soft, there was a clear jab of irritation in Bill’s voice when he spoke. “Then again, a little reminder of your other option won’t exactly _kill_ anyone, am I right?”  
  
Before Ford could react, a harrowing jolt of electricity rushed through the collar to every inch of his body, making him shout in pain and crumple into a writhing mass of flesh on the floor. Flashbacks to the repulsive smell of burning skin and hair attacked his senses, and in less than seconds his tormented mind was verging on hysteria. He had to clasp his both hands on his mouth to stop himself from screaming out of sheer animalistic terror.  
  
Bill howled of laughter at the sight of his sudden breakdown.  
  
Leaving his seat, he floated next to Ford and wiped off the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “Are we on the same page now?” he asked quietly. “Surely you don’t want to go down that road again, do you? Because I’m not sure how much more of that you could handle. So! Are you ready to work with me? Don’t worry about the equation, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”  
  
Ford drew a shaky breath. He knew Bill was right - he’d acted bold before, but the mere thought of having to go through electrocution until passing out all over again made him feel like he was going to lose his mind.  
  
At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about the equation. On the other hand… In a state of madness, he might end up handing the information over to Bill without even realizing it himself.  
  
Burying his face into his palms, he remained quiet, heart sinking but devoid of strength to protest.  
  
It was as if Bill’s voice itself had ignited his characteristic blue flames, burning low as he ran his index finger lightly under the man’s chin. “Atta boy, Fordsy.”  
  
And then another scream echoed as Ford was hurled violently against the opposite wall on the other side of the room. He collapsed onto the floor again, but an impatient tug from his collar urged him to get up at once.  
  
“Now, I really need you to cooperate here if you want to keep those jolts to a minimum. So I’m gonna have you exhibit that willingness for a bit.” Bill floated to sit on the top of the grand piano and crossed his legs again, hand casually playing with the chain resting on his lap. He snapped his fingers, and the piano started playing itself, filling the room with smooth, classic jazz tunes that were in stark contrast with the current mood.  
  
“Kneel.”  
  
Ford raised his head and stared at the shamelessly imperious look in the triangle demon’s eye with pure disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
Bill squinted his eye, slightly annoyed. “Do you need another friendly reminder about how much of a position to object you’re in? Because that position is so miniscule it’s practically nonexistent. Now _kneel_.”  
  
He had no choice. Groaning loudly, Ford rose to his knees, still making vague attempts to cover himself with his arms.  
  
“Hey, we’re finally making some progress here! On your elbows then. Chop chop.”  
  
“This is absurd, I’m not -”  
  
“ ** _On your fucking elbows, mortal!_** ”  
  
Suddenly the same invisible force from before pressed his head down vigorously and knocked his upper body off balance. Trembling of shame and terror, the man was forced to comply.  
  
“Crawl.”  
  
“Bill -”  
  
“ _Crawl_.”  
  
When he still couldn’t bring himself to move, Bill seemed to run out of patience. With an abrupt clatter of the chain, Ford was wrenched onto his stomach and mercilessly hauled across the floor for several feet. He choked and clawed at the collar still pulled taut against his neck.  
  
“What right do you think you have to resist me?” Bill growled, his voice dropping on inhumanly low levels. “I was your king once, Stanford Pines. I was your inspiration and the purpose of your pathetic mortal life, I was your _god_. And I’m still your god. I _own_ you. _Nothing_ has changed that!” He jerked the chain upwards, forcing the man at the other end to clamber back to his knees. “I’ll have you worship me and devote your whole miserable being to me, just like the old times! Doesn’t that sound just dandy? Doesn’t it, Stanford? Now give your master the respect he deserves and **_crawl_**!”  
  
Fighting back tears through the sharp pain in his neck, Ford got shakily down on his elbows, hung his head and gritted his teeth in shame. And crawled.  
  
He could hear the air around Bill crackle with electricity as he slowly approached the grand piano. The triangle demon waited in silence, radiating waves of icy fury, impatience and… something else. It was a dreadful mixture that caused cold sweat to break out all over Ford’s shivering body as he stopped beneath Bill’s feet, his sense of self-preservation screaming to not make any unnecessary motions that could be interpreted as disobedience.  
  
“Look at me.”  
  
In the back of his mind, Ford hated himself for visibly trembling when he cautiously raised his head to face Bill. The demon’s eye was half-lidded as he reached to grip his chin and draw him closer, releasing him from the crouching position.  
  
“I like that look on your face, kid.” The grip loosened, and the hand traveled up his face to once again run through his hair. “Hm, let me slip into something more comfortable… Undo my bowtie.”  
  
Ford felt his face flush. He reached out his slightly trembling hands, hesitantly but without objecting.  
  
He was stopped halfway. “Ah-ah, hands on the piano. None of those crafty additional digits allowed, gotta play fair here. Do it with your mouth.”  
  
“W… What?”  
  
Bill’s eye was glinting with both anticipation and danger. “Bowtie. Mouth. Now.”  
  
Ford was completely speechless, his face bright red with embarrassment. He felt his earlier anger coming back in waves, but his survival instinct managed to hold its ground. Placing his hands on either side of the expectant-looking triangle, he squeezed his eyes almost shut, huffing deep, frustrated breaths through his nose, and closed in on his capturer’s fancy suit accessory. His lips reached for the silky fabric, trying to get it done and over with as quickly and unceremoniously as possible, but couldn’t get a proper hold of the neatly tied knot. Grunting out of humiliation, he had no other choice but to part his lips and catch the silk between his teeth. His upper lip swept involuntarily against Bill’s surface, and the hand in his hair rubbed gently behind his ears as a sign of approval. Ford closed his eyes and fought the urge to grimace. With a slight pull of his teeth, the bow slid smoothly open and hung lightweight between his lips as he drew away.  
  
“Don’t drop it”, Bill warned softly, forcing him to keep his head still and slightly bowed down with the strip of canvas still in his mouth. The black fingers danced on the collar before climbing up his neck and chin, lingering on his chapped lips before snatching the bowtie and nonchalantly throwing it over his shoulder.  
  
“Very good.” A thumb ran over his lips again, this time with a little more pressure. “Now kiss me with that deft little mouth.”  
  
A low, embarrassed noise was muffled against the finger slightly invading the gap between his lips. _This isn’t happening… This can’t be happening._  
  
Ford had no way to resist as the hand in his hair as well as a soft pull from the collar guided his mouth closer to the spot revealed beneath the stripped bowtie. Once again squeezing his eyes shut, desperately trying to escape the reality of his situation, he briefly pressed his trembling lips against the golden surface. Bill’s lower eyelashes fluttered against his forehead.  
  
“Oh, no need for such chastity between old friends… I’d appreciate a little tongue, Fordsy, if you don’t mind.” His voice was now husky and quiet, eagerness having replaced the earlier ominous undertones.  
  
Ford wanted to turn his head, back off, run away from the demon’s hungry gaze. Now trembling all over, he opened his mouth weakly and licked the hot, glowing smoothness in front of him. It tasted like metal.  
  
“Again.”  
  
Trying to ignore the leg keenly brushing against the side of his neck, he ran his tongue up the same spot and felt Bill shudder slightly under his touch.  
  
“Again, Stanford…”  
  
Ford’s shaking fingers were gripping the piano’s edge as he leaned forward and pushed his mouth on Bill. A soft sob slipped from his throat as he flicked his tongue up and down while two hands gripped the sides of his head, fingertips rubbing his scalp with an almost painful force. He could feel Bill breathe heavily against his forehead, even though he wasn’t sure how it was even possible.  
  
He was equally out of breath when Bill finally let him draw away from his possessive hold.  
  
The chain loosened and his head was roughly forced down again. Despite the ever so mortifying sensation of fingers once again playing with his hair, Ford was secretly grateful for the chance to avoid looking at his tormentor. He wanted it to last for a little while longer, just enough to catch his breath, but was left with little choice when the chain was pulled taut again, forcing his gaze to meet Bill’s.  
  
Though the almost predatory look in the demon’s eye made his stomach turn with dread, he kept his glare as defiant as possible, even when his chin was held up with a grip and a thumb once again tapped his dry lips, making him shiver.  
  
“You’re looking a little out of your wheelhouse here, kid”, Bill muttered, stretching the man’s lips apart with two of his fingers in a rather intrusive manner. “Let me see if I can help you with that…” Ford’s pulse sped up as one finger slipped unhesitantly past his lips, lightly caressing the inside of his cheek.  
  
He tried to back off by instinct, but the collar and the grip in his hair gave him no leeway; his hands flew up, trying to make Bill retreat his, but were instantly pushed back down and pulled behind his back. The collar’s chain travelled down to wiggle around his wrists, effectively cuffing them together. Unable to stop what was happening, Ford squirmed at the feeling of Bill’s finger exploring his mouth, slipping beneath his tongue and tickling the underside before climbing back up. With a soft movement over his lower lip, the digit retreated slowly, drawing out a thread of saliva before sliding back in, this time accompanied with another finger.  
  
“That’s more like it”, the demon purred, staring at him with intensity that almost resembled adoration. “Good boy, Stanford.”  
  
Ford drew heavy, shaky breaths through his nose, face burning with shame as the fingers started moving across his tongue in slow, lightweight thrusting movements. He had to keep his lips sealed tight around the fingers to stop the excessively forming saliva from dripping out, and he groaned weakly at the slick feeling in his mouth as the fingers lapped around his tongue, pressing it gently down before continuing with the thrusts. The lewd, rhythmical motion left no space for misinterpreting what it was supposed to portray, and the implications made his heart pound against his ribs and his knees shake under him.  
  
An occasional thrust went deep enough to make his eyes tear up and breath hitch in his throat. Drool threatened to spill out again, and Ford was forced to suck on the fingers to stop it from reaching the gap between his lips. He heard Bill let out a sigh of surprised delight and sobbed helplessly when the fingers were pulled halfway out, thumb gently rubbing the left corner of his mouth.  
  
“Very good, Fordsy. You’re starting to get a hang of this, aren’t you? Let’s take it up a notch, shall we?”  
  
The hand playing with his curls traveled down the side of his face and settled over his eyes and nose, blocking both his vision and airway; at the same time a third finger joined the other two, sliding in to fill his wet mouth once again.  
  
He struggled and grunted in a strike of panic, but the hand smothering him wouldn’t budge an inch; the movements in his mouth continued relentlessly, and he had no other choice but to part his lips, releasing a set of humiliating noises from the back of his throat as well as a fill of slickness dripping down his chin. The fingers twitched and came to a halt at the sight of his undignified state, slowly drawing out, drenched in the sticky fluid. Ford gasped weakly as the other hand was lifted from covering his eyes and nose.  
  
Bill’s golden surface was glowing distinctly more luminously than before. Humming along with the soft jazz tune, he let his hungry gaze rest on his captive’s damp, helpless eyes, flushed face and gaping, panting swollen lips glistened with thick saliva that still hung in threads between his mouth and Bill’s fingers lingering over his chin.  
  
“Much better”, the demon whispered keenly, his eye half-lidded with satisfaction. “Keep that look. I want it to be the only thing you’ll be wearing when I take you.”  
  
That last comment was finally too much for Ford. With a mixture of a cry and a whimper he jerked his head away from Bill’s possessive touch and clambered as far away from him as the chain allowed. Breathing heavily, he wiped his chin with the back of a shaking hand and closed his eyes in  waiting of a sharp, choking pull on his collar - which, surprisingly, never came.  
  
“Oh”, he heard Bill’s voice say with an unreadable tone. “Did I give you permission for that? I don’t think you fully understand the meaning of cooperation here. Or are you having second thoughts about your other option? Want another reminder of your earlier shock therapy, IQ? Because I’ll be glad to arrange _that_!”  
  
Ford folded over in terrified anticipation. The jolt that followed shortly was very weak compared to the previous ones, but it was more than enough to drive his strained nerves over the edge. The last bits of electricity had barely left his body as he dropped on his hands and threw up violently on the floor.  
  
Tears were dripping from his eyes and the acidic taste burned in his mouth as he turned away from the mess, feeling shaky and hollow. Bill wiped the floor clean with a nonchalant swish of his hand and hovered closer to him, hand reaching for his hair again. Ford flinched, but it was no use.  
  
“See, Stanford, now would be a good time to stop being an ungrateful piece of human filth”, the voice growled into his ear. “I’m merciful enough to offer you another way around only because I like you a whole lot. I like the way you taste -”, the sensation of something wet and forked brushing against the shell of his ear had Ford holding back another pitiful whimper, “- and I like the pathetic little sounds that slip out of your mouth when we play. You’re cute. Don’t ruin that with bratty waywardness.”  
  
Ford’s insides felt ice-cold when his head was forced down by a hand affectionately rubbing the back of his neck. He was too worn out to fight back or even be disgusted by the shivers running down his spine at the touch.  
  
A hand patted his head encouragingly. “Now that we got that out of the way, let’s freshen you up a bit, shall we?” He heard a snap, and a glass full of most likely alcoholic liquid was offered to his lips; his head was held back by a grip in his hair, and he had little reason or energy to resist the drink pouring onto his tongue. Even after being swallowed down his hoarse throat it left a sparky and sweet aftertaste in his mouth that made his gums tingle, and he shuddered a bit from the odd, lingering sensation.  
  
“Ooh, that went down smoothly. Very good!” Bill floated from behind his back to face him with a gleeful smirk, thumb reaching to run along his lower lip. “You see how things are much more pleasant for the both of us if you stop being so damn obnoxious all the time? Good going with this one, Fordsy, seems like you’re finally learning.”  
  
True enough, by this point Ford had taken it to his heart not to flinch away from Bill’s intrusive whims; however, his eyes were still sharp with defiance when he stared back at his capturer. “Bill.”  
  
“Yes, Stanford?” Bill answered vaguely, seemingly occupied with running his finger lightly across the spot where his bowtie had been.  
  
“What the hell is all this? We were partners, friends, but you… We didn’t… _It was never like this_.”  
  
Bill glanced back at him; it was uncanny how expressive his single eye could be in demonstrating all the different nuances of mockery. “Maybe not. _In reality_. But your dreams and fantasies sure were a different animal, _right_?”  
  
Ford clenched his fists and felt his face heat up again. Of course the all-knowing, dream-invading bastard was going to bring that up. And if the previous showings of just how many kicks he got out of humiliating the man were anything to go by, he wasn’t going to stop there.  
  
Oh, no, not a chance. “I mean, _sheesh_! I may be the snazziest geometric shape around -”  
  
“Bill.”  
  
“- and surely my limitless smarts, dazzling personality and just allround natural charm were bound to enamor your weak human mind, _to a certain extent_ -”  
  
“Bill”, Ford said a little louder, irritation bubbling in his voice.  
  
“- but oh golly gosh, if someone had told me I’d ever run to a fleshbag with the _actual, physical fleshbag hots_ for me, I would’ve told them to get out of town and drag that freaky business along with them to the gutters -”  
  
“Bill, that’s enough!”  
  
“- which would’ve been a perfect place for _you_ to get your twisted mind out of, you big freak of mortal nature! Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your sick little jazz for me? That I wouldn’t feel all that thirsty, needy frustration coursing through your body whenever I possessed you? That I wouldn’t see your unnatural, lust-dripping dreams with you _begging on your knees_ for me to put my hands all over you, sighing and moaning as I let them slide slowly over every inch of your trembling body and all the way down to y-”  
  
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, CIPHER!” Ford roared, a sudden fit of rage overcoming even the embarrassment of being forced to vividly remember the dreams that were currently being described in great detail. Bill almost toppled over from screeching with laughter at his reaction, swiftly summoning his cane to lean on in order to keep himself afloat.  
  
“HYAHAHAHA, oh man! Fordsy, you’re absolutely killing me! I mean, sure, I’d grant that and every other request you might have for my mouth - _if I had one!_ Get it? I DON’T HAVE A MOUTH!” The triangle folded over from cachinnation, leaning his part corresponding to a forehead on his hands that were crossed on the cane’s handle. Ford huffed through his nose and looked away until Bill had calmed down enough to regain his speech, which, of course, only trailed back to continue the taunt.  
  
“Oh, just face it, Stanford, you’re a freak and you know it”, Bill chuckled breathlessly. “You’re lucky I don’t mind that, oh no, not in the least.” His eye went half-lidded again. “See, that’s just another thing I like about you. Being drawn to a chick next door is normal and expected of you meatsacks, but being drawn to a - well, admittedly classy - superdimensional geometric shape? That’s crazy, buddy, there’s no sense nor logic in it, none whatsoever. It’s chaotic! There’s a beautiful chaos inside your crooked little human mind, my friend. It makes you very special.”  
  
Once again, a hand reached for the foremost curls of his hair. “It makes me want to explore every one of your sick fantasies and turn them into reality. To see just how far I can take you, test the limits of your human endurance without breaking you… Well, not completely at least.” Eye glinting, Bill gripped his hair gently and drew his face closer.  
  
“I want to hear you screaming my name when I take your mortal body to the edge, and I want to see all that devotion and worship in your eyes when they dilate with lust and pleasure where they should reflect nothing but pain and terror. And I know you want it too. You’re special. We just might be a perfect match for each other, Stanford Pines.”  
  
Bill drew back to have a better look at Ford, who was trembling and biting his lip furiously. His curious gaze slid down the man’s body, and as it reached his crotch, the demon’s eye widened with pleased surprise.  
  
“Well, well, well, would you look at that! All I did was some dirty talk, and boy, did it ever do the trick.” His eye shot back up to meet Ford’s with a somewhat triumphant smirk. “Damn, I’m _good_!”  
  
Ford gritted his teeth in desperation. He couldn’t help it. The visions induced by Bill’s words were all but violently invading his mind, and they were so vivid, so unbearably strong, that he couldn’t stop his body from reacting to them. He simply couldn’t. He tried to focus on anything else, anything at all, but Bill’s voice softly murmuring into his ear made it impossible.  
  
“Good, now we’re finally getting somewhere with this. It still isn’t nearly enough, though. No, I’m gonna find out what really makes you _tick_.”  
  
Ford squirmed as he was lifted up in the air and, with a nonchalant flick from Bill’s wrist, thrown roughly onto the grand piano. The collar clattered against the glossy surface, and the instrument made a dissonant sound when his foot hit the keys, interrupting the smooth tune it was playing by itself. The chain tightened itself around his wrists and tugged them over his head. His whole body flushed fiercely at the position that left him completely exposed to Bill’s interested gaze as the triangle floated beside him and tucked the end of his cane under his chin.  
  
“Now let’s see…” he said thoughtfully, forcing the huffing man to bend his head to whatever direction the cane pushed it. “Since I got you this far with nothing but a few honeyed words… Yeowza, can’t wait to see what’ll happen when we get down to the actual physical business.” The cane drew a straight line down Ford’s chest, scratching his skin slightly, and he let out an unintentional sharp noise when the friction created incredibly intense sparks of heat all over his body. He felt uncomfortably hot - in more ways than one - and it had a feverish tinge to it that made him shiver even more than before, even the slight vibrations of the piano setting his sensitive nerves on edge.  
  
Something wasn’t right.  
  
Oh no.  
  
“Bill”, Ford asked with a strained voice, “what the hell was in that drink?”  
  
Bill’s eye lit with excitement. “Oh! So it’s finally kicking in? Jeez, this stuff takes time! Seems like I need to have a little talk with that completely not suspicious business dealer. Although you just proved that I’ve got some talent in the butter-up department, so it should be a cinch!”  
  
Ford groaned; there was a higher note at the end of the sound he didn’t intend there to be. “Oh god…”  
  
“Oh, we’ll get to _that_ eventually”, Bill laughed. “And hey, by the time this stuff really gets you going and all of your fleshy senses are upped to eleven - in fact, make it twelve - you’ll be feeling like a god yourself. That should make it even more interesting!”  
  
The man pulled at his chains, the panic of losing control quickly taking over. “No! Let me go, Bill! You can’t do this!” He had more than a vague idea of what the substance in his drink could be, he was definitely already feeling what it does, and he didn’t want to find out how much stronger the effects could still become. His feet scrambled on the piano’s surface in a weak attempt to escape, which was soon cut short by a sharp smack on his knees from Bill’s cane. Ford shouted and squirmed, his legs beginning to tremble as his drugged brain misinterpreted the pain as something entirely different.  
  
“Nuh-uh, stay, boy”, Bill warned cheerfully. “Keep still or I will do it for you. Though I think you’d actually like that by now, wouldn’t you? Oh, I bet you would! So headstrong and gutsy, yet so defenseless and submissive before the one you gave your everything in the past. Until the end of time, am I right? That was _your_ choice of words, not mine, remember?”  
  
Ford struggled to calm down his quickened breathing. “You’re insane”, he said, his voice shaking. “You’re absolutely insane.”  
  
“Haha! I hear that a lot. Tell me something I don’t know, smarty-pants! Except you’re not wearing any, but hey, neither am I! Whoa, this situation seems to be getting more and more precarious with every turn! Two handsome chaps in the same room with no pants on, well, who knows what indecencies this can lead to! Oh boy, sign me up for _this_ show!”  
  
Ford groaned loudly with rage, along with a variety of other feelings. He stared furiously at the triumphant triangle floating above him, wanting to smack that stupid smirk off his face, shut him the hell up, hold him down by his stupid stick legs and _lick him_ , suck that dangerously sharp edge until the bastard was whining and moaning with that stupid annoying loud voice, _what the hell_?  
  
Grunting in shame, he banged his head against the piano. He needed to stop his thoughts from swirling in irrational and completely reckless directions while he was still in control. He feared it wouldn’t be the case much longer, and the numbing wave of pleasure that the hits on his head caused only strenghtened that feeling.  
  
His breaths hitched when he felt the curved end of the cane hook the back of his neck, arching it slightly. “Hey, quit that. Pain stimulation is a privilege that’s preserved for me only. Wouldn’t want the fun to end too soon, would we? Now…” The cane’s end caught the loop that connected the chain with his collar. With a small twist of the cane, the collar tightened around Ford’s neck.  
  
“Hgh-!”  
  
It choked him for just a few seconds, then loosened enough to leave him gasping for breath. His hips twitched upwards from the rush the lack of oxygen caused. Bill watched his sharp inhales and arduous gulps keenly, then reached his hand to his upper stomach, fingertips brushing the curve of his ribs. “See, it’s so much nicer when we’re both involved, isn’t it?”  
  
The new sensation made Ford instinctively throw his head back in spite of the pressure the movement added on his throat. Bill’s touch was less than featherweight, barely making contact with his skin, but it felt like it was slicing his very nerves with its heat. His head was spinning as if in a state of thick intoxication.  
  
“Bill”, he spluttered, his voice weak with the strain. “B-hh… You c-can’t…”  
  
“Oh, I can”, Bill hummed. “I will.” His hand slid lower, over the navel and along the trail of hair, teasing the sensitive skin and leaving to linger just above the man’s painfully hard erection. Ford’s hips jerked up before he could even think about controlling himself; he could hear his own breathy groan through the haze of arousal filling his mind. His fist clenched in desperation as he felt the fingers dip in the juncture between his hip and leg and continue their way down his inner thigh instead.  
  
“So hasty, Stanford. At least let me warm you up properly.” The hand rubbed his thigh in slow, circling movements, making his whole body writhe with the waves of heat. “Although your icy attitude has pretty much melted by now, hasn’t it? Let’s do a little testrun, shall we?” Ford gasped loudly and shook as an index finger made its way up the underside of his throbbing arousal, thumb joining to gently caress the tip dripping with precum. The surge of lust that followed the act was so violent he nearly shouted.  
  
The hand retreated quickly and left him trembling in frustration and disappointment. “B-bastard”, he spat out shakily. He wasn’t sure if he was referring to the situation overall or just the fact Bill had stopped what he was doing.  
  
Bill’s eye curved into a smirk as he reached to pat his cheek, and the slight wetness of his fingers made Ford cringe in shame. “Now that’s the missing bit of crank I was looking for. Good boy, Fordsy.” He finally loosened the cane’s twist on the collar, causing Ford’s chest to heave rigorously as his lungs were filled with deep, sharp gasps of air.  
  
“Allrighty, I’d say we’re ready to take this somewhere more comfortable. After you, pal!” His fingers snapped, and Ford’s newly attained breath hitched into his throat as he was lifted up once again, teleported to the other side of the room and dropped unceremoniously onto the triangular bed. The chain still holding his wrists together wiggled quickly around the bed’s pointy end, keeping him in place. Although he knew it was futile at this point, he still pulled frantically at the chain when Bill floated to him an took a seat on his right knee, crossing his legs and swirling his cane in his hands.  
  
“Bill!” He tried his best to put strength in his words, but managed to sound about as convincing as a lamb on its way to the slaughterhouse. “You let me go right now or s-so help me I- hhah–oh g–” His shaky attempt of an intimidation turned into an aroused whimper when Bill’s hand slipped into his kneecap, stroking it so forcefully his leg would’ve sprung up if it wasn’t held down by an invisible force.  
  
“Shush”, Bill uttered, his tone almost bored. “I said I wanted a bit of crank in the game, but that was just ridiculous. Try a little harder, will you?”  
  
Ford didn’t answer; he seemed to have temporarily lost his speech from the buzz in his brain that the pressure against his kneecap caused. The sensation made his mouth water, and he ground his hips against the sheets to stop himself from going mad from need. He couldn’t stop himself from groaning.  
  
Bill sighed and drew back his hand. “Fine, no crank. Be like that then. Well, at least let me make this a little more thrilling for ya.” Yet another snap of his fingers - Ford felt like he was slowly becoming conditioned to expect being flung around at the sound of it - was followed by his stripped bowtie appearing from thin air between them. Bill spun his finger around and the fabric stretched into double its size, and Ford yelped when it was slapped on his eyes and tied into a tight knot at the back of his head. He struggled against his new blindfold, but, unsurprisingly, it was no use.  
  
For a moment, his head was cleared by sheer exasperation. “Bill, I swear to _fucking_ god -”  
  
“Now, now, Fordsy, mind your tongue or I’ll snatch it away from you.” His frenzy was interrupted once again as hands started to slide up both of his legs, gently massaging the skin and muscles on their way. Ford quivered as they verged on his hips and pushed them down on the bed. At the same time, another set of hands settled on his stomach and chest, while yet another pair pressed their thumbs against his soles, rolling in circles and pressing just the right spots to earn a faint moan from the man.  
  
Ford couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. It was too much, the hands, his helpless position, the touches - everything was too much. The mere droplets of sweat running down all over his trembling body felt as if they could set his body on fire, and in a completely different meaning than what his earlier ordeals had done in reality. Even the unpleasant associations were completely wiped out just by how inebriating it was.  
  
And then he felt a hot, forked tongue wrap around his length, he all but cried out of pleasure.  
  
“How’s that feel?” Bill’s breathy voice seemed to echo all around him. “Tell me how good it feels, Stanford.”  
  
Nothing came out of Ford’s mouth except for a long moan and a thread of saliva dripping down the corner of his lower lip. His heart pounded and his hands gripped the sheets as he struggled against the hands holding him down, desperate to respond to the slick, swirling motions around his cock. He was vaguely aware of having reduced into an undignified mess, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.  
  
The tongue’s mesmerizing movements came to a halt and it loosened its hold, causing him to let out a pathetic whine. “I asked you how good it feels. Where’s my answer? Come on, Pines, tell me. How good does it feel to be pleased by your master?”  
  
“Fuck you”, Ford managed to heave out between his gasps. He was replied with a scornful laughter.  
  
“Not with _that_ attitude I won’t, Fordsy!”  
  
Ford groaned as the tongue started to instead crawl up and down his thigh, followed by another one teasing his other leg. They were obviously not going to reach up where he wanted them until he gave the response Bill was looking for. “I hate you”, he hissed through his gritted teeth.  
  
“No, you don’t. You love and adore me and can’t get enough of me.”  
  
“I \- ahhgh…” Ford stammered as a third tongue began to lick his neck earnestly, following his jawline all the way to his ear. “…I… h-hate you!”  
  
“Oh, come on, you’re bowing to the master of the con arts here!” Bill’s voice was filled to the brim with sneer. “If you’re going to lie to my face, at least have the decency to say it like you mean it!”  
  
“I fucking despise you!” Ford almost roared, his voice hoarse with strain and lust. “You make me sick! I’m glad I can’t see so I don’t have to look at your stupid excuse for a face! I will destroy you and tear you to tiny little pieces once I’m free, so _you better not fucking let me free, Cipher_!”  
  
For a moment, everything stopped. The hands on him seemed to tremble slightly. After a few seconds of confusion, Ford realized it was from silent laughter.  
  
“That’s more like it”, the voice finally said, now so different it was almost unrecognizable.  
  
Ford had no time to prepare himself for the hands grasping him roughly and turning him around onto his stomach. He felt something - some sort of appendages, thicker and more slithery than the tongues - wrap around his waist and pulling his hips up while a hand gripped his hair and held his head down. In any other occasion this position would’ve been mortifying, but now it had him gasping in keenness. Even if he’d been able to form proper words right now, he couldn’t tell Bill he’d never done something like this before as the demon would surely just taunt him due to his inexperience, and that it’d probably hurt - and at the same time he yearned for the mockery and he wanted it to hurt, and he wanted so many things and he wanted everything.  
  
He’d never wanted so much in his whole life.  
  
Another tendril slid steadily up his thighs, and the dripping wet sensation had him already moaning into the sheets out of sheer anticipation.  
  
“You’re a bad, bad devotee, Stanford”, he heard Bill’s voice mutter all around him. “Using such filthy language of your god, having such filthy thoughts of your god… You lowly, filthy little human… You deserve to learn a lesson.”  
  
The hot appendage pushed roughly inside him, and it burned and hurt, but Ford was no longer able to tell pain apart from pleasure. He shouted, fingernails tearing at the sheets.  
  
One thrust. Just one, maddening thrust, and then it halted. “Beg.”  
  
Ford breathed in shallow gasps; he knew that all dignity he’d ever had was gone. “Pl-ahh.. nhh… p-please…”  
  
The hand stroked his scalp with its claws. “You’re kneeling before your god, Stanford. You have to do it properly. What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Please… B-Bill… Hh-ahh… Please… _Please_ …”  
  
“Please _what_? _What do you want_?”  
  
Ford groaned weakly and buried his heated face into the sheets. He knew what he was supposed to say,  but he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. That’s where he drew the line. “Please… Don’t stop, Bill”, he finally managed to breathe out. “Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”  
  
For a moment he waited in silence, broken only by his own panting and the smooth piano jazz still playing in the background that seemed to mock his state of almost dreadful frustration. His heart pounded as the hand in his hair tightened its grip, and he couldn’t stop a vague smile of relief spreading onto his face when he heard Bill’s voice say softly:  
  
“That’ll do. Good boy.”  
  
The thrust that followed was enough to make sparks of light flicker against his blindfolded eyelids. His teeth and tongue tingled with pleasure when the tendril twisted deliciously inside him, continuing its rhythmical movements in a tortuously slow pace.  
  
“You’re a good boy, Stanford. Such a good devotee, such a good partner.”  
  
Ford moaned even louder than before, unexpected words of praise sending a jolt of satisfaction down his neck and spine. His hands were grabbed by the wrists and pulled behind his back, the added loss of control strenghtening the sensation further. The sheets under his mouth were already soaked with drool.  
  
“We changed this world together”, Bill’s voice hummed, his movements gradually speeding up, deepening. “You changed the world. So you should rule it as well, by my side. You’re worthy of all that power. You’re _special_.”  
  
Suddenly the grip on Ford’s wrists became tight as iron, and an abrupt twist at them caused a shock of pain so sharp it rushed a taste of blood into his mouth. He shouted, at first of agony - but his brain no longer had any normal capability to recognize and tell different sensations apart from each other, and when the thing inside him pulled out and he was flipped over again so violently that a nasty crunch could be heard from his neck, everything he felt was sweet, sweet, intoxicating.  
  
The tendril entered him again, this time very gently but feeling thicker than before, while a fast tongue began flicking over and around his throbbing, drenched member.  
  
“Worship me, Stanford.”  
  
The stimulation was so much Ford was barely aware of all the things happening to him. The hands were back on him, he couldn’t move his own, another hand ran through his curls over and over again. The thing inside him was moving in a pace so slow that it came down as sheer torment, and he began thrusting his own hips against the pressure, moaning earnestly at the feeling of liberation it had to be able to finally respond.  
  
“Worship me. I want to hear you scream my name.”  
  
Their pace picked up; with the surge of heat it caused to course through Ford’s body, it felt like the reality around them was slowing down instead.  
  
“Bill”, he breathed out. “Bill…” The hand in his hair gripped him so tight he could feel his scalp tense up.  
  
“What part of _scream_ do you not understand? Scream, Stanford!”  
  
“Bill!” he yelled, voice cracking as the speed quickened even more; his body was numb with pleasure, he was sure he’d lose his mind any second now, he wouldn’t last -  
  
“ ** _Scream!_** ”  
  
“ _BILL_!” It was a scream, a heated, fervent one from the top of his lungs, and it finally drove him over the edge. His whole body arched against the multiple hands and tongues and tendrils caressing him all over as he reached his climax, its abnormal intensity induced by drugs, pain and overstimulation. He was barely conscious when it finally started to cease, his body feeling like it could shut down any moment.  
  
The appendages slowly retreated and disappeared, and after a long while of unsteady breathing and a spinning, scrambled mind, his blindfold was removed and he could see Bill floating above him, his pupil dilated and gleaming with satisfaction.  
  
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he hummed while readjusting his now normal-sized bowtie. “If I didn’t know any better, I could almost swear you were enjoying yourself back there.” He gave the shattered man a bizarre, one-eyed wink.  
  
Ford was too worn out to speak. He could tell that a hammering headache was developing around his temples, and the more aware he became of the intense, pulsing pain in his broken wrists, the more he felt like he was going to throw up. He glanced at the fractured hand and could barely manage a small, desperate noise through his dried throat.  
  
“Oh, _that_! Perhaps went a little overboard there. Oh well, it’s a cakewalk to fix.” Bill snapped his fingers carefreely, and in an instant, the pain disappeared and Ford could move his fingers again. His rising nausea eased up considerably at the sight.  
  
“Now then… A little something to drink, perhaps?” Another snap of fingers made a glass of water appear out of thin air. Ford leaned towards it eagerly, but suddenly froze when it was tilted towards his lips.  
  
Bill’s eye glinted. “Oh, so you’ve learned! That’s right, Fordsy, never accept drinks from a stranger. It’s bar etiquette 101. Then again, we’re not in a bar, and you _do_ need to drink, unless you want your pathetic little fleshcage to wither of dehydration.” It was true, Ford realized; his nausea filled all the criteria, and if he didn’t rehydrate his wrecked body soon, he would almost certainly pass out within an hour, perhaps even minutes.  
  
“Of course, there is another option you must be well aware of already… We could go back to the throne room, recommence the public entertainment. _Or_ , we can stay here, you can drink your fill… Even at the risk of starting this all over again.” Bill squinted his eye, beaming with arrogant sneer. “Are you ready to make the bet?”  
  
Ford stared at the glass of liquid, his chapped lips throbbing with thirst.  
  
This was also torture. It was no different from the throne room.  
  
What harm would it do?  
  
He leaned forward and sighed as the cold drink touched his parted lips. It made his tongue tingle slightly.  
  
The stirring liquid reflected a ravenous glint in Bill’s eye.  


**Author's Note:**

> (Psst! You can find me on Tumblr as Kindafooey. I like to post stupid things and talk about stuff. :>)


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